


Our Prince, our perfection

by SetsunaDrive



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Starscourge, Love affection and loyalty babey, M/M, Pampering, cor and clarus are mentioned too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SetsunaDrive/pseuds/SetsunaDrive
Summary: A victorious post-war Lucis flourishes in a world without the scourge - under the loving, attentive care of his retainers, Noctis flourishes with it.[Noctis is pampered and loved on by the bros, both as they wanted and as our boy truly deserved.]





	Our Prince, our perfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hati_skoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hati_skoll/gifts).



            

            As prince, Noctis was destined for the spotlight.

           

            Every trip into town was an excursion and every shop that he and his father visited a runway, with Regis coolly ignoring the photographers as they attempted to get as close as they dared to with Clarus and several beefy, choice Crownsguard members surrounding the royals. Ignis did his part too, small but armed with a levelling stare that would be enough to make any adult ashamed of misbehaving.

            Clarus could predict the morning paper easily. Regis reaching up to lift down a tub of Chocobo shaped candies, smiling at Noctis where his young son clung to his pant leg, would be the front page cover and the photographer who caught the moment that the light hit his crown just right would be the one to secure the spot. The centrefold, however, would be reserved for a picture enchanting enough for framing it to be justified, and Clarus knew that Noctis would not fail to deliver.

           

            Up on his tippy-toes, big blues eyes wide and smile shy at the attention as he accepts the bucket of candy that dwarfs his torso in size. His fluffy mop of hair brushed meticulously by his nannies who Clarus had needed to firmly steer the boy away from as they straightened his outfit and cooed over his joyful retelling of his meetings with the palace frogs (royal members of their own pond court, according to him). He buries his face against his father's outfit in a tight hug, the tub still held tightly in one arm, but a light nudge on the shoulder is all the prompting he needs to turn to the reporters and give them the photo-op they're all desperate for. He walks to the nearest one, a well dressed man with nicely styled hair and a face that instantly paints his disbelief and apparent nigh-euphoria at being the one given this chance; the little prince takes a breath, looks down at his treats, and then directly into the lens of the camera as Iggy had instructed him was best.

           

            His smile and blush would be enough to deal a critical hit to any Crown citizen. "I'm really happy to visit this shop with my dad and my friend, Iggy," he starts, tone friendly and posture betraying just the slightest touch of nervousness, "because my school friend told me that chocobos are the best. I'll share these with him and anybody else who would like one.. and that's why I needed this many." A quick glance over his shoulder, a motion to continue from Regis and a wave from Ignis, and he finishes his speech off neatly. "Most importantly, my advisor told me that everybody should remember to brush their teeth after eating candy, because then we can all have white smiles!"

           

            He hugs the bucket close and smiles, pearly whites proudly on show, and the reporter feels his eyes tear up. He shakily snaps the shot.

           

            Clarus knows that this Prince, flourishing in a Kingdom on a post-war high with the citizens already wrapped so tightly around his little finger, will take world by storm.

           

            This passed, Noctis grew, and the future shone brightly for the boy adored by his Kingdom.

             
-

           

            Prompto had been to the prince's apartment countless times now, but the shock of remembering where exactly he was could still right-hook him into a goofy-eyed daze if he wasn't careful. Thinking about it too hard was a no go, paying too much attention to the papers which sat on the corners of various pieces of furniture around the room was absolutely not allowed, and trying to imagine how much the total value of the items in the room would be was out of the fucking question. He was practised and ready for this – he may be a pauper in the prince's own personal palace, but he would make sure he was a _c_ _hill_ pauper. The cool kind who used his camera for pictures of the sunset and the cats they saw together, instead of Noctis' face.

           

            _But_ _by_ _Titan’s_ _massive nuts_ , Noctis had been making that difficult lately.

           

            Whereas Prompto considered his own puberty to have hit like a chocobo transport truck taking a corner at double the speed limit – a calamity of yellow, panic, and enough impact to hurtle him into the vicinity of 'one of the cutest boys in class' – a title he wants carved onto a medal – he had found himself with a front row seat to the dawning sunrise that was Noctis' own. Rounded features had matured smoothly into sharper, refined edges that framed the prince's features like a portrait, his arms and legs gaining muscle and length in a proportion that had perfectly complimented the agility Noctis prided himself on which so often left classmates to pick their jaws off the floor after athletics. Every part of his presence and atmosphere dripped with a sense of refined luxury, as though Noctis could've been found lounging in whatever room Ifrit kept his horde of treasure in among the collection of gold and furs and diamonds, and whatever else his worshippers had decided he might have wanted.

           

            Perhaps that particular daydream, of Noctis draped in gold and jewellery and satin, was a bit more specific and detailed of a thought than most people would have about the future King, but having seen a huddle of love-struck classmates trading magazine clippings of him during break once, Prompto doubted it. Noctis was a 5-star character, plain and simple, and that, more than anything else, was enough to leave Prompto scrabbling for his cool.

           

            On the upside, his chronic issue of gawking at Noct had paid off big time when Noct accidentally tipped his water bottle too far back one lunch break, resulting in a soaked white shirt on the sunny school rooftop. The ensuing staring and less-than-subtle way he’d shoved his bag into his own lap had led to him getting kissed senseless by his observant friend, dizzy to the point of confessing in a daze of adoration. On the downside, it made keeping his cool through challenges such as Noctis lazily sucking at red ‘n white striped lollipop – a flavour which happened to be Prompto's choice but that he hadn't known Noctis to favour – while reclining on his couch about one foot away from Prompto's face, very, very difficult.

           

           

            "This game sucks." Noctis said, tapping the sweet against his plush, dyed red lips lazily.

           

            "What?" Prompto said, showcasing the efforts of every brain cell not currently being used to imaging sucking the strawberry and cream flavouring off of his best-friends lips.

           

            Noctis lounged even harder, in his own well-practised way and smiled at the dopey look Prompto was shamelessly wearing in the presence of the literal heir to the throne of Lucis. In a move that would haunt Prompto's desperate, honey-dipped wet dreams for years to come, Noctis pushed the lollipop against his friend’s lips until Prompto held it weakly between them. The warm, sunlit room in all its yellow glazed glory faded away from Prompto as he struggled to remind his body that yes, his tie _was_ on loosely and he'd already unbuttoned his school shirt enough to make breathing viable no matter how much air he needed to gasp.

            "I said the game sucks, Prom. This is the third time you’ve tried to make me play Crash Bandicoot and it's still not doing anything for me-"

           

            Prompto, using the unstoppable power of a long-time series fan, pulled his brain out of his dick and hit the deck running, lollipop pulled from his mouth and waggled in reprimand. " _Noct_ , maybe you’d enjoy it if you actually played it _yourself_ instead of making me do it while you just watch for once-!"

           

            Noctis pouted and turned his head to the side. "You always enjoy playing it, so I always enjoy watching you." He said quietly, sighing as his eyelids slipped shut. ".. I’ll play it if you really want me to. It looked like you were kind of winding down for a bit there, anyway."

           

            Prompto sat quietly. He turned, his back no longer pressed against couch cushions as he repositioned his place on the floor so he could sit facing Noct with an elbow folded onto the edge of the cushion, his head now resting on it. He accepted the chance to look, no stealing involved with permission as clear as this, as all his hormones paced into a slower kind of pull.

           

            The soft rays played calmly across Noctis’ cheekbones. They looked at home there. Like they felt they belonged with Noctis.

            Prompto reached out, and softly ran the tips of his fingers on the hand not currently pillowing his head across skin below his friend’s left eye, chasing the light as the shade dipped lower with the sun.

           

            He felt it too.

           

            "Love you too," his sleepy boyfriend murmured, his dark blue eyes just open enough to watch him, "you dork."

           

            He did belong. Right here, with his best friend. His boyfriend. In his fancy apartment, in his own crappy one, outside in Insomnia's streets and tucked tightly against him on whatever bed they shared.

           

            The couch was as good a bed as any.

           

            Prompto pulled himself up and ignored the querying look in Noctis' eyes as he got to work. First to the bottom on the couch, hooking his fingertips beneath the tops of the prince's school-issue socks to slide them off. Then climbing over, a knee of either side of those long legs as he balanced to keep himself upright while he undid the buttons on the white shirt which had given him a hand in getting this far so smoothly in the first place. The tie, undone and pulled loose, tossed to the side onto the coffee table. His own tie and shirt dealt with, and his own hands slipped along the soft skin of Noct's torso, warm and inviting. He lay down slowly, working himself into the space that fit the two of them so well, chest to chest, and kissed up from Noct's neck to his lips.

           

            The candy tasted sweet on his lips, but his tongue held only the familiar taste he was used to. No hint of sugar or artificial flavouring.

            Prompto knew he didn't like strawberry and cream. That teasing ass.

           

            "And you call _me_ the dork.. you pull that move out of a gossip mag or something?" Prompto muttered, struggling not to smile into the kiss. Noctis huffed out a laugh and licked at Prompto’s lips, getting his own way as usual, the kiss going deeper as he slides his hands around Prompto to pull him close. Closer.

           

            They stayed like that for a while, tasting and dragging languid, lazy touches wherever their hands fell. Tongues tangling, mouths pulling away to land kisses on eyelids and noses and other places that might not necessarily work towards anything heavier but that were perfect in the moment. A natural movement -

           

            And when Prompto felt his eyes begin to get wet, stupid thoughts lingering too long on how lucky he was, and how grateful, he preserved the mood by moving lower and taking his fill of collarbone and neck, pressing his hips harder against the other, both boys moving in gentle, tight circles as they melted into each other. Their legs tangled and Prompto lay his weight down properly. He could feel Noct's breath evening out, and he knew he'd be asleep before long.

           

            Fine by him.

           

            As the touches wind down, Noctis stretching out and switching to a loose hug around Prom rather than feverish grabbing, Prompto draws patterns onto Noctis' chest. A water bottle. A heart.

            A pair of glasses, a shield, a camera. A crown.

            A sun.

           

            He feels his own eyes slip shut, and Prompto follows Noct into the world of the dreaming.

           

            -

           

            Noctis has always had the magic in his veins as a weapon. Lying dormant, awaking in tricks and pretty flourishes that Regis had taught him personally. It's a shining blue – lighter than his eyes, crystalline and weightless until he wants it to carry force. It floats in the air around him, dances in his hand and clinks against Gladio's fingertips like tiny crystals.

           

            He remembers being pulled by the hand through the secret passages of the Citadel, Noctis flushed and both of them booking it as fast as their young legs could carry them – which had turned out to be faster when Gladio had heard his father calling into the passage behind them, opting instantly to dash forward and grab the prince. He’d tossed him over his shoulder, breaking into a flat out bolt like a Coeurl on the hunt.

           

            Noctis had shrieked with laughter, most likely giving away their positions instantly to Clarus but Gladio hadn’t been able to break the grin from his face as he ran and he'd never hear anything more of it at home.

           

            Unsurprising, given it was less than unheard of for members of the palace staff to allow Noctis his own way.

           

            (Rumours got around: one such modern day legend was of the prince and Cor. A long night and a business trip for the King. A maid who'd peeked through the open bedroom door and seen – if the rumours were to be believed – Cor standing beside the window, moonlight barely lighting his movements as he moved to a gentle sway while a prince closer to a toddler than a child lay cradled in his arms, his face (free of tears, but flushed, worn out) buried into the expensive silk shirt of the Marshal. A low, deep voice, pulling roughly over the notes of a lullaby about the stars.)

           

            Back then, the magic had come to Noctis in flashes and wisps, briefly there and then gone.

            Now, Gladio thought as he watched Noctis hurl a sword of solid steel that must have weighed more the prince did, across the room with a flourish that ended in the magic frantically chasing his form until he reappeared enshrouded in it, it was far more like the magic came to him.

           

            Gladio loved that he could be so involved in Noctis' magic training. He loved to watch Noctis cloak himself in his birthright, to watch Noctis confidently call upon the power of his blood and use it when they sparred to level the playing field placed between them by four years of age and the difference between genetics: one set specialised for warping and agility, and the other hand-picked for strength. He loved to see what he'd helped Noctis to create, felt proud and warm when he watched Noctis flip himself gracefully in the air as though having his feet on the ground was optional only to land with a firm, steady posture that tensed the muscles of his thighs perfectly. He felt proud when Noctis raised himself to full height and stood straight in a way that screamed _noble_ , and he could see in detail how Noctis’ arms flexed as he pulled his sword from whatever unfortunate wall he'd shoved it into this time as though tugging steel from stone was hardly worth putting effort into.

           

            Most of all, no matter how much he complained about it, he loved the trust that Noctis placed in him during every session. Gladio braced himself, eyes scanning the flash of blue as it arched through the air wildly until it made it just above where the shield stood and suddenly, the prince materialised. Falling down fast and freely to land-

           

            - directly in Gladio waiting arms.

           

            Gladio smiled at Noctis where he hung catlike and unbothered on his perch. "You could give up that extra half-warp you get out of pushing it too far every time, you know."

           

            Noct kicked his legs, shifting in the hold against the bulky body padding he wore. "Yeah, but that's three and a half warps less a week, Gladio." With some effort, Noct lifted his heavy head to make eye contact, sweat on his brow and a tired, smug look on his face. "And 100% less chances to have you practise catching me."

            Gladio made a noise of consideration in the back of his throat- then dropped his ass to the floor as fast as he could, Noct held tightly to his chest, leaving the prince clinging to his with a look of panic.

           

            Once certain he wouldn't be dropped, Noct scowled and kicked his heel against Gladio's broad side. "You pull that when I’m not exhausted next time. See how it goes!".

            "You enjoy it enough that you want me to do it again, huh princess?" Gladio quickly put Noctis down to avoid further kicks, laying him flat on the mat and preparing to go through his usual routine to check for injuries.

            "You know, you don't have to drop from 15 feet up to have me carry your scrawny ass around. You _can_ just ask." He said, running his hands firmly up each one of Noctis legs in turn. He moved to his arms and checked those too, gently rotating the wrists to check for sprains. "One of the benefits of going through the trial of telling the council about us all, ya know? Might as well use it."

           

            Noctis rolled his eyes, going floppy in a manner that was only semi-helpful as Gladio tried to check for pressure injuries and bruises, trapping his t-shirt beneath his body so he had to be lifted for Gladio to pull it up. "They said we could ' _comport ourselves privately as we wished_ '," He intoned, putting on a snooty voice and sticking his nose in the air like the old wheezebags of the council had after wasting eight collective hours of everyone's time discussing lives that weren't theirs or in need. "I'm pretty sure that meant ' _fine, but be quiet about it._ ' I don't think it was an open invitation to have you haul me around the citadel like a hero from one of those crappy novels you're always reading."

           

            Gladio paused where he was, kneeling over Noct's smaller body with his hands gently tipping his head from side to side to check for neck injuries. He took a moment to picture it – himself with long, flowing hair, carrying his King down the steps of the throne room like a scene from a cheesy movie.. ignoring the faces being pulled by the council surrounding them, head held high and smiling while Noctis laughed happily in his ear. The room was bright, light glinting in his King's joyful eyes. He wondered if the crown would get in the way of leaning down to kiss Noct from that angle. If Noct would have stubble to challenge his own. He tried to envision it.

           

            Both of them older, their fathers off enjoying their newly found free time. Fulfilling their duties proudly, side by side, protecting each other in loyalty and in love. He looked down at Noctis where his youthful, sweaty face was staring back up, probably getting ready to tease him for daydreaming.

           

            He looked happy, though.

            The older Noctis in his mind looked happy too. (He couldn't wait to kiss him.)

           

            He leant down and pressed a kiss to the unharmed skin of Noctis chest, then another higher up, then one directly to his lips, glad that he didn't have to wait at all right now. "You'd look so good with you hair longer and down, your highness."

           

            Noctis petted at his shield's hair tiredly, returning the kiss with sleepy enthusiasm. "I look damn good with it up and styled, too."

           

            Gladio had to agree with that one. He could feel the low energy movements getting slower, and he knew that if it weren't for the stone tiles being an awful napping spot that Noct would be out already. He quickly thought through the possible routes back the citadel garage, tried to remember the schedules of the members that his dad had told him about.. he decided he could do it easily enough. Pulling himself up, he moved to Noct's side and started undoing the straps of his armour. As soon as it was off – and before Noct could start to question him – he tucked his hands beneath his shoulders and knees and lifted the heir to the kingdom into his arms again, shuffling him until it looked comfortable enough.

           

            Noctis looked.. pleased. He brought one hand up, delicate in his movements despite Gladio knowing exactly what that hand was capable on in the field, and rested his fingertips on the dip of Gladio collarbone, smoothing back and forth over the skin there gently.

            ".. Think we're gonna get seen?" He asks, not sounding particularly bothered by the possibility despite being the one to pose the question.

           

            "Think I _care_?" Gladio answered in a tone as sarcastic as he could make it given he was currently struggling not to fall into the easy romanticism of the moment that his big, stupid heart seemed to love. "If anyone asks, I'll just say you passed out mid-warp again."

           

            Noctis kicked him in the side with his heel again, the cheap move no more than a tickle as Gladio made a show of flexing and posing while he carried his cargo to the door.

            Noctis smiled against his skin, and Gladio felt the heat of it spread up until a grin stuck to his own lips.

           

            -

           

            They're getting a take out tonight – as Ignis had promised. That doesn't mean, Ignis had decided moments after making the promise, that dessert couldn't be a hand-made affair.

           

            Champaign and raspberry possets, chilled and with a taste as refreshing as the temperature. Noctis was due back from training any minute now, and Ignis was glad he'd managed to get these finished in time to have the treat served as a follow up surprise.. as long as Noctis had the energy to stay awake for a dessert course, that is. They would be ready to serve and fully chilled in under an hour, a dessert worthy in both looks and taste of his prince, placed neatly in the fridge leaving Ignis with only the washing up to finish. He'd rolled his sleeves up past his elbow, the soapy suds making it no further than the feather rimmed edges of his thick purple rubber gloves anyway.

           

            Given as a gift by the rest of the boys collectively, they weren't as stylish as his usual leather but they served their purpose well.

           

            The door swings open just as he finishes washing the final raspberry seeds from the sieve, and he quickly grabs the towel to dry it off and slip it surreptitiously back into the cupboard while feeling unaccountably smug with himself for his smooth planning. With the crusting already crumbled and ready to add, and the additional raspberries already delicately sliced by his own hand and lightly frosted, his anticipation for tasting his handiwork was near to the eager pride he felt at the thought of Noctis doing the same. Only the best would do for Noctis – a standard set by Ignis' own will, proudly defended in every way that the heir would allow him to.

           

            He's just pulling off his gloves when Noctis strolls into the kitchen, looking considerably more awake than Ignis had expected. "Good evening, Noct." he says, placing the gloves on the counter and slipping his usual soft leather attire back on. "Training went well I assume?"

           

            Noctis walks across the kitchen, casting a smile quickly to the purple gloves, then to Ignis' surprise coming to stand directly in front of him to rest his hand on Ignis’ hips. So close that he doesn’t need to do more than murmur, Noctis keeps his voice soft as he scoops a few stray bubbles away from his advisor's shirt. "I had a nap on the way back," he explains, moving them both backwards until Ignis is resting against a counter. "Gladio carried me. Was comfy enough." His fingers play with the black skull necklace hanging as always between the unbuttoned space of his shirt. "You might hear something about it on Monday though. I wasn't awake to find out if anybody saw."

           

            Ignis was still, the holding his breath in the face of this less usual behaviour, worried he might accidentally stop it somehow no matter how silly that thought may be. He can feel the way he's playing with his necklace – a gift from Noctis himself, and certainly one of his most prized worldly possessions – and the soft, barely there touches feel all the more powerful for their delicate tone. He shivers at the sensation, vision narrowing in on the quirk to Noctis’ lips as he wonders exactly what had managed to slip the prince into such an affectionate mood.

           

            The mental image of Gladio proudly strutting through the palace, Prince in arms, helps to diffuse a bit of the tension that Noctis had so effortlessly paralysed Ignis’ usually quick mind with, and his laugh is a soft breath between them. "I suppose he enjoyed himself immensely. It's certainly an opportunity not afforded to many."

           

            Noctis _mm_ 'ed into his chest and leaned against him, his weight light and so much more than welcome. Ignis, so easily charmed by this soft, affectionate side of his prince, wrapped his arms around him in turn and pressed his face into the silken black hair. The strands against his face were a luxurious level of smooth – a result of both expensive conditioner _and_ high-end styling product designed to avoid the unpleasant crunch that a certain blonde had suffered from before Noctis had offered to share his own supply. Fingers lift to tentatively brush against Noctis cheek, the advisor suddenly craving the soft press of his prince's lips against his own.

           

            He cups his cheek in his palm, brushing the soft skin with the pad of his thumb and waits until Noct realises his wish. He’s patient, knowing that Noctis, for all his fronts, is so intrinsically in sync with their desires and emotions of each one of his closet loves that it won't take long for him to read the longing in his touch. The shameful hunger that eagerly crests within his chest at the chance to indulge in the attentions of his first lover is a creeping force through his nerve endings.

           

            Noctis turns and presses a kiss to his palm and Ignis’ breath hitches on the exhale, hurrying back in faster than before to account for the quickening of his pulse.

           

            Gods.. how I adore you.

           

            Leaning up on his tippy-toes, in a way that Ignis has always found familiar as though from a long ago memory, Noctis join their lips in a union that knocks half of Ignis’ brain offline. An instinctive, nigh-animalistic response, as though his mind is providing him with the chance to take in every perfect detail as fully as possible. He seizes it gladly, decorum meaningless against the temptation of Noctis slotting their legs just so, grinding onto Ignis' thigh in hard, agonizingly slow movements.

           

            Ignis groans quietly into the kiss, the slick sounds between them lost to him as he focuses on pressing forward to give Noctis a place to find his sought after pleasure.

            He lives to serve, and if it's a release Noctis needs, he will find his own pleasure in providing it.

            (Another talent of him, some might say.)

           

            It takes effort to pull away from the kiss but the delivery man will be here shortly and if this night is to go as planned – and without those generally relaxing plans being derailed before they have even begun – Ignis needs to change his approach. As much as the thought of allowing Noctis to grind against him to his peak, to chase his pleasure into the palm of Ignis' cupped hand while Iggy works on savaging his neck as he's learnt his love enjoys in the heat of the moment, until he's left soft with pleasure and with ruined clothing that Ignis would too happily strip him of..

            As much as he _does love_ such activities, there is a better way to do this and he is a strategist in servitude to the crown. Efficiency is key.

           

            Noct huffs in displeasure as Ignis pulls back, quirking a brow in a show of irritated questioning as he's left with neither thigh nor mouth to work with. "Iggy, I was kind of planning on taking that somewhere.. is the counter digging in your back or something?"

            Ignis smiles, feeling another surge of adoration as Noctis' fingers slide down to slip between him and the (completely innocent) kitchen counter, digging in gently to massage away the proposed discomfort before Ignis has even confirmed the thought.

            An attentive lover.

           

            He will make a for a _fine_ King.

           

            Ignis reaches to lift one of the hands from his waist, stilling their movement. Holding eye contact until the last moment, breaking it only when he dips his head downwards, he returns the kiss to the centre of Noctis’ palm and seals it with a drag of the tongue-tip. The way Noctis' dark eyes are following his movements when he reopens his own sends a bolt of heated electricity through his body, and his resolves teeters on the edge as he considers the pros and cons of bending Noctis over the counter, even if the icing sugar still sprinkling the counter gives away his sweet surprise.

           

            On the upside, the acoustics in the kitchen are quite lovely and the thought of driving into Noctis until he loses his voice to whines is a _very_ attractive one. If he can pull up the black t-shirt, perhaps to protect it from the powdered white coating, there's also the mouthwatering possibility of pressing Noctis’ chest to the counter instead – envisioning licking up the heated skin afterwards, stimulating Noctis' sensitive skin beyond the point of release to taste the sugar dusted across his chest and nipples, is also a firm reason to continue, the thought alone diverting blood fast enough to make Ignis feel dizzy with arousal.

           

            The downside: if he allows himself to ruin date night by exhausting Noctis before Gladio and Prompto have even arrived, he will never again be in a place to scold the others when they do the same, and then there will be pandemonium. At least _one_ of them has to be able to reprimand Gladio for being unable to resist the prince's post-training shower teasing without pounding him flat against the tiles, no matter how lovingly, and _someone_ needs to have enough authority to let Prompto know that _yes_ , any oral that leaves Noctis drooling and unable to stand afterwards _doe_ _s_ still count as jeopardising date night.

           

            If it leaves Noctis settling in for an 8 hour power-nap, it's too much.

            The kitchen counter will just have to wait to become acquainted with the joys of reverently defiling a prince.

           

            Plan formed, Ignis puts it smoothly into motion before Noctis – flushed red, slightly out of breath. very hard and becoming less patient by the moment – loses his temper completely (no matter how enjoyable that might be).

           

            "My apologies Noct, but if I may... would you be interested in a bath, before we dine?" He means to add a tone of suggestion, but finds that it is neither necessary nor audible past the heavy, rough calibre of his voice as it already is. Noctis considers, concludes, and smirks in a fashion so dirty that Ignis wishes _he_ were the photographer of their retinue – a framed image like that.. he might not accomplish much during the day, if there was scenery such as that to be admired.

           

            They walk, Noctis leading Ignis by the hand to the grandiose bathroom and flicking on the light. The eye roll when he notices the water already steaming warm and scented, the tones of jasmine and pine already seeping into their skin and relaxing Noctis as it usually does.

           

            There is many things Ignis takes pride in – his intellect, his cooking, his repair skills, (his quick wit being a personal favourite) - but one of his proudest achievements is his success in training Noctis’ body to understand the cues he offers to it. Seeing Noctis shoulders loosen and droop into a completely relaxed state, noticing how he pauses to sniff at the aroma, knowing that he has the ability to calm his prince's nerves with as much consistency as his other lovers do in their own ways.. he feels accomplished. A personal, private goal long met.

           

            He helps him to undress. It's a slow process, peppered with kisses but timed nonetheless (a delivery-style interruption is not welcome in this moment) by Ignis and led by him too. His kisses up Noctis' arm after the t-shirt is removed, first at the wrist, then on the soft skin hidden in the crook of his elbow, then up to his shoulder and finishing at the neck. He dips to his knees to remove his pants and briefs in one clean movement, his eyes level with the thick, very pretty and very interested member of his prince. He pays it less mind than it would like, and more than he should given the plan – a path of wet kisses that end in Ignis coating his lips with the clear liquid dripping from the slit, and no more. Noctis is breathing fast by then, clearly wound up by the intimacy. That’s fine. Ignis will soothe that heat, but not in any fashion that risks leaving him to put Noctis to bed for the night.

           

            He worked hard on those desserts, and by Ramuh’s grace he **will** see them enjoyed.

           

            He holds out his hand and Noctis takes it as he steps into the water. Ignis, sleeves still rolled up from earlier, kneels on the stool behind him and washes gently – his back, his arms, his chest, passing the squeegee around for Noctis to use on the below-suface portion while he works on massaging the shampoo in and exchanging it for the conditioner, careful not to allow any to run forward. The shower head is set to a pleasant warmth but he turns to down to a safer lukewarm just in case before proceeding.

           

            It's a teasing move, not enough to provide relief fully, but he twists the shower head to a firmer setting and slips it beneath the water anyway, holding one arm around Noctis chest to steady him while his aims the light pressure where he knows Noctis needs to feel it most.

           

            The immediate effect is a rising whine, followed by Noctis flopping back to pant against his collarbone – his shirt is getting wet after all, but Ignis truly could not care less when it is in the name of attending to matters as important this this. It's mesmerising to watch as the blush deepens and spreads across Noctis cheekbones and chest while he holds on tight – one hand gripping the arm supporting him and the other clutching Ignis' shoulder, the fabric soaking beneath his touch. The advisor moves the shower head back and forth tantalizingly, up and down along the manhood now fully reddened with blood and stiff between legs that jerk and shudder as they try in vain to thrust up into the warm press of the water. Breaking through the cool composure Noctis carries is addictive, and Ignis' face burns as he witnessed the beautiful display that Noctis' body puts on.

           

            Another whine and Ignis reaches the point in his timing that means it's time to wrap up, and so the shower head is turned off and placed to the side in favour of his hand. Noctis' clinging is sharp and his breathing is heavy and filled with pleasure, his movements encouraging Ignis to stroke firm and fast beneath the surface of the water. It's deep enough that his fist doesn't break the surface on the upwards stroke but there is splashing nonetheless as Noctis writhes around, loving and eager gasps of his name punctuating the sounds of the water.

           

            When Noctis hits a high pitched moan and curls even tighter against his neck, his thighs follows suit, beginning to clamp tightly around Ignis hand but he doesn't allow that to stop his movements. The delectable sounds reach a crescendo as Ignis continues to jerk him off firm and thorough, and when Noctis climax hits, the most movement that Noctis’ strong, well-muscled thighs allow is the repeated swiping of his thumb back and forth over the head.

            Noctis shakes through his orgasm and Ignis, hoping to the Astrals that he left a clean pair of his own briefs here somewhere, follows.

           

            -

           

            By the time Noctis is back on his feet, towelled off and nearly purring with sated satisfaction, it's time for Ignis to greet the doorbell. He turns and gets halfway before he hears keys in the lock – the door swings open and he smiles as his lovers greet him with their arms laden down with take out, Gladio tucking his wallet back into his pocket and shouldering through the doorway.

           

            Noctis pads happily into the sitting room in his most worn and comfortable clothing, and the rest get changed in suit – wearing a varied spread of tattered chocobo print cottons and moogle vests, silk pjs and re-purposed sweatpants, they don't make for much of a royal retinue in appearance but that aspect of their group is given no thought as they settle in on the massive couch. Noctis lays down languidly, with Ignis lifting his legs to rest in his lap where he absent mindedly rubs at them, Gladio behind him cushioning his head in his lap with one big hand buried in his freshly washed hair and the other gripping a chicken sautéed skewer, and Prompto setting up the movie then sitting cross legged beside Ignis, hugging Noct's feet to his chest while he enthusiastically and dangerously, given the way Gladio growls towards the ends of certain sentences, toes the line between explaining the themes and ruining the plot.

           

            It's a popular movie and Noctis watches along with the others for the first half, occasionally diverting attention to accept a fork-full of fried noodles or break a moogle cookie with Prom. Gladio rubs at his shoulders as he mutters critiques and guesses about the plot, and Noct eventually finds himself watching the small exchanges between them more than the screen. Prompto leaning in to kiss Ignis when their eyes meet, Prompto's nose crinkling in joy and Ignis smoothing his finger down the bridge of it with a warm smile on his face. Gladio kissing them both as he leans in to nab the remote from between them, turning on the subtitles because the effects and music sometimes muffled the banter between the characters. Touches and leaning and affection passed around as easily as the shared food between them, his whole body warm and comfortable, in a room that was filled with nothing but love between them and the noise of the film.

           

            In the end, Noctis didn't really remember what it was about. He remembered Ignis hotly debating with Gladio about the necessity of the main plot point to the goals of the main character, his tangent stopped only by Prompto informing him that the possets were so good that he he wanted to make love them. He remembered Gladio comparing his muscles with that of one of the main characters, snorting when Prompto argued that if Gladio got any bigger they'd need to surgically attach another couch to this one. He remembered Prompto burying sobs into a pillow, Ignis sitting silently with tears in his eyes that he, through some masterful exhibition of control over the human form, kept from falling until he was ready to dab at them with a handkerchief. He remembers Gladio sniffling, and threatening to get Prompto in a headlock if he mentioned it again.

           

            He was more than half asleep at the time, and too focused on his lovers to spare any attention for the further distance of the screen. He caught the general gist; a destined warrior, an age old evil.

            An adventure plagued with danger as the evil forces prevailed again and again.

            An example of what happens when, as people so often seem to request, it turns out that the power of friendship actually _can’_ _t_ fix everything – when it can’t fix anything at all.

            A sacrifice, and another, and another.

            A victorious ending that seems to leave his boyfriends looking more depressed than triumphant.

           

           

            Noctis snuggles down into his spot, Prompto and Ignis getting gentle taps from his toes and Gladio a small nudge in the stomach. It's enough to turn attentions to him and the mood as the credits hit is broken; Ignis declares the rules of the film completely worthless and void, Prompto enthusiastically agrees friendship could _too_ have fixed it if they'd played their cards right, and Gladio complains at the incompetence of every character in charge of giving instructions and passing on info.

           

            Noctis mumbles something about the fishing having looked good, gets a mixture of agreements and groans, and promptly falls asleep.

           

           

**Author's Note:**

> this was a wonderful prompt from my Noctis Exchange partner, hati_skoll! I couldn't believe my luck when I read the prompt - could I have been given a more enjoyable, perfect theme to write around? I think not! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> (I intend to add more after my exams - the rating will be far more deserving of 'explicit' b/c noct and prom are gonna ruin the couch and gladio's gonna give that high level Suck, so be warned)


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